


death is your gift

by nikmood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry's Got Issues, gen - Freeform, hard truths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikmood/pseuds/nikmood
Summary: Harry was given a gift once.  He decides it's time to share about the first time he used it.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	death is your gift

In a shadowed corner of the spacious office sat a young man with the weight of his world on his mind. Harry sat on a high back burgundy leather chair, gazing down at his worn trainers, waiting patiently for his former Professor to enter the room. He knew it should be any moment now since some carefully vague questioning of the house elves revealed that every evening after supper Mcgonnogal retired to her office for an hour to tend to personal correspondence and relax with a glass of Scotch….or three.

Suddenly the heavy oak doors opened and the former Transfigurations professor strode into the office, a bouncy house elf trailing behind her. “Will Professor Missy Whiskers be having some strong smelly drink and nibbles tonight?” 

“Yes, just bring it to the desk here, Pokey. And thank you,” Minerva said with a wave of her hand. 

Pokey popped out to the kitchens, and then popped right back in, carrying a tray with a large tumbler full of Scotch and a plate with several ginger newts. 

"What brings you here, Harry?"

"Death."

"Pardon me?"

"The stench of death clings to some, much like a cheap suit that's several sizes too small. I've reeked of it for so long I no longer remember what fresh air is.

"Death is my gift, and it's a gift that keeps on giving. Instead of fighting back whenever I was attacked, I tried disarming my opponents so often that I could have changed my name to Expelliarmus.

"Death is indeed a mighty gift, and it's one I never would have had were it not for you. You see, it was here at Hogwarts that I first killed anyone"

"Mr. Potter...Harry. Fighting in battle is different than murder. We all did things during the wars that we aren't proud of, but we have no choice but to move on."

"This happened before the battle. Several years before axtually, at the end of my first year."

Minerva had a queer look on her face at that. "Harry, I'm sure you must be mistaken."

"Not at all. See, Professor, I came to you during the Philosopher's Stone debacle. I told you that something wasn't right. And you blew me off. So I went down there, and I ended up killing Quirrel. Maybe he had to die, I don't know. What I do know is that I didn't need to be the one to kill him at the tender age of eleven. So his death, and that first dark mark on my soul, are your crosses to bear for the rest of your days and beyond"

"Are you here to kill me then?" She shakily asked.

Harry inhaled deeply. "No. That isn't what I want. You'll live, for the rest of your days and beyond I hope you think about how you turned an 11 year old into a killer, all because you wouldn't listen." 

Minerva exhaled slowly. "Why are you sparing my life?"

The man smiled a sad, sharp smile. "Like I said. Death is my gift. And it's one that I don't feel like keeping to myself any longer." Harry stood abruptly and walked to the floo.

Minerva sat for the rest of the evening staring into the fireplace, tears occasionally crawling down her cheeks, thinking about a young Harry and wondering what other catastrophic blunders she made in her career.


End file.
